Here Without You
by thewretchedchild
Summary: Liason duh. Very SAD or, it's SUPPOSED to be. As ever, please review!


The rain hadn't stopped in days. It just poured, endlessly. There was talk of flooding on the news, amazement at the unseasonable deluge. Jason wasn't arrogant enough to think the weather had anything to do with him, but he was grimly pleased about it. It suited him that even the sky wept. He stood in it, finding satisfaction in being cold, in being wet. If he thought that he would be left alone, he doubted he would ever go home. The rain was, really, perfect in everyway. It even went with the dedication on the headstone.

_ Here Without You, It Keeps On Raining _

He knew for a fact he didn't have much imagination, but she had this vision of her, instructing that it rain in honor of her. Only she wasn't selfish like that, she wouldn't want it to rain, and be grey, and flood.

She would want it to be sunny, for everyone to be happy. For him to be happy.

His chest ached under the weight of his heart. It beat sluggishly, as if it had turned to lead. Or dried out. Or died. Or a million other unoriginal clichés.

But it quite simply hurt to live without her. For now, the pain was sharp. Making his stomach twist and convulse. Making it hard to think. He knew with time, the pain would ease. Or change, more. It would become a dull, throbbing ache that shadowed his every move. That his mind would clear, showing him with excruciating detail, every minute of their past. Every wrong word, each and every wasted moment, the wasted opportunities. Every bad decision and every stupid, unthinking time he had taken her for granted.

It would show him how he had always loved her. From their first conversation to her last moment.

He loved her now. When it was way past time, and far to late. When the events of the previous week were unchangeable, and set in stone. Like her name. Carved in stone.

_Elizabeth Imogene Webber_

_1982-2004_

_Beloved Mother And Friend_

_Here Without You, It Keeps On Raining _

He wished the word wife was listed. He wished she had been his wife. And more the point, he desperately, endlessly, furiously wished there was no list at all. That she was at home, singing her son to sleep.

He wished he had the chance to fix things, and to tell her how madly he had always loved her. He wished that when he forced himself to go home that she would be there, rather than the remnants of her life, found for him by her grandmother, in a wooden box with his name painted across the top.

A piece of red glass. Dried roses. A single white glove, stained with makeup. His old number scrawled onto a coaster. An unreturned library book. Some soda crackers from Kelly's, the kind that came with soup.

Though he couldn't feel them, he knew tears had mixed with the rain on his face.

A painting of the wind. He had that too. Wrapped in brown paper because he knew if he looked at it, he would shatter.

And that wouldn't do. Because she had left him something else. The reading of her will had stunned everyone, including him. She had left him the best thing she knew how. The greatest declaration of her love, and trust, he would ever, could ever, receive.

Cameron.

Upon her death, custody of her son to was to go solely to Jason Morgan, and no one else.

She had given him her son. And he knew that no matter how much he wanted to stand in front of her grave, in the rain, for the rest of time, that he had to treasure and protect her child.

He had been sure there was a mistake, until reading the letter that her lawyer handed him.

Jason

Naturally I hope you will never read this, but if you are, then you should know that my decision is final. I can think of no one better, more honorable, nor more loving to raise my son. I ask only that you do the best that you can, each day of his life, and that you make sure he knows that I love him (note present tense) everyday of his life.

Since you're reading this, I know I will never have to look you in the eye again, so I may as well confess my deepest secret.

I love you. I never stopped. I never looked at without wishing for a way to be with you. I never regretted anything more than giving up on us. I know you no longer love me, and I hope you'll forgive me my last words. My last chance to tell you how I feel.

I can end only with an apology. I'm sorry to have sprung a new future on you (though I know it is one you need and deserve). I'm more sorry than I can say for leaving to begin with. And I'm sorriest for never having the bravery to tell you, in person, how I feel.

I love you Jason.

Elizabeth

Reading it was like swallowing acid. Regret became a filter through which his every breath passed, so he was constantly dizzy with it. He raged against God, in whom he didn't believe. He railed against circumstances. He had ordered a hit on the drunk driver who had so senselessly deprived a circle of people, a world, or her. Only to retract the order, because it wasn't what she would have wanted.

And he cried. An endless river of grief that merged with the rain.

"I love you, Elizabeth."

He spoke aloud, and the sound of his voice startled him. He repeated himself.

"I love you."

And wished, more than anything, that he believed she could hear him.

END

So, yeah, obviously I was feeling dramatic. I was working on Madness, but I became abruptly so annoyed with Jason (aka, the writers) for not doing what I scream at my screen for him to do that I decided to punish him. 'Cause, HA, I can do that in fan fiction. So I'm not positive if that's Elizabeth's middle name, forgive me if I'm grieviously off. Apply statement to the year of her birth as well. I can never really tell on soaps. The only one that seems important is 18, and then they start drinking, so you can never really tell, really.

ANYHOW, I do, of course, expect copious, long reviews from you all, and I'll do my utmost to try and get Madness updated before much longer.


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